{"id":10699,"date":"2026-02-21T20:05:54","date_gmt":"2026-02-21T20:05:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/?p=10699"},"modified":"2026-02-21T20:05:54","modified_gmt":"2026-02-21T20:05:54","slug":"my-mil-and-her-family-sabotaged-every-meal-i-made-until-i-secretly-served-her-own-dish","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/?p=10699","title":{"rendered":"My MIL and Her Family Sabotaged Every Meal I Made \u2013 Until I Secretly Served Her Own Dish"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Every dish I made for my husband\u2019s family was met with criticism and side-eyes, no matter how hard I tried to win them over. But one dinner, that involved a secret plan, everything changed.\u00a0I\u2019m an American woman, married to an Indian-American man named Raj. From the moment I met his family, especially his mother, Priya, I could feel the wall. Little did I know that I\u2019d be forced to bring that wall down.\u00a0Raj\u2019s family didn\u2019t reject me because of our cultural differences, but for something colder and harder.Priya saw me as a passing phase, someone who didn\u2019t belong, despite Raj and me being together for three years, married for one.\u00a0No matter how kind I was or how hard I tried, she\u2019d flash that tight-lipped smile and keep me at bay, never really accepting me.\u00a0I loved my husband, and he adored his family, so I continued trying, maybe too hard, in spite of the rejection. I desperately wanted my mother-in-law\u2019s (MIL) approval, not just for myself, but for Raj.\u00a0What you need to understand about my husband is that he was, and still is, the golden child in the family, and the idea that I might be a wedge between him and his people killed me.\"A<\/p>\n

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A standoffish woman | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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So, I turned my efforts up a notch and leaned into their culture to show how much I cared about their heritage.<\/p>\n

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A woman in Indian clothing | Source: Freepik<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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People, listen to me clearly, I went\u00a0deep<\/i>.<\/p>\n

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I studied Hindi phrases, learned Bollywood dance routines with my friends for fun, and most importantly, I cooked. But not just any cooking; no, that wouldn\u2019t be enough for Priya and her family.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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For months, I dove knee-deep into traditional North Indian cuisine. I pored over cookbooks, watched YouTube channels like Hebbars Kitchen on repeat, and set off every smoke alarm in our apartment experimenting with dishes.<\/p>\n

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A laptop screen showing YouTube | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I explored dishes like palak paneer, rajma masala, and my difficult MIL\u2019s supposed signature and favorite dish: chole bhature, a popular North Indian chickpea curry with fried bread.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Our kitchen was a disaster zone of turmeric stains and splattered tomato gravy. I must have made chole bhature 20 times! Raj, bless him, never complained and served as my guinea pig, sampling everything I made.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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One night, after I scorched yet another batch, I slumped to the floor beside the stove, defeated.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman sitting on a kitchen floor | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Raj knelt beside me, laughing. \u201cYou\u2019re doing great, babe. Really.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cNo, I\u2019m not,\u201d I said, wiping my forehead. \u201cYour mom would probably call the fire department if she saw this.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He pulled me up and into a hug. \u201cYou know what she does? She throws in extra chili and then brags about how no one in America can handle real food. You\u2019re being thoughtful. That\u2019s what matters.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A couple bonding | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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My husband\u2019s words of encouragement gave me just enough motivation to try again. And finally, one day, it came out right! The chickpeas were tender, the spices hit the perfect tang, and the bhature puffed like clouds!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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For the next family dinner, I brought my homemade chole bhature, heart pounding like I was walking into an exam I hadn\u2019t studied for. I placed the dish on the table with a little smile, but inside my mind, I was picking it right back up and running far away with it!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman placing a dish | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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As everyone gathered around the table, Priya pulled off the foil of a bowl and said, \u201cI brought my special! My chole bhature!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Everyone cheered and clapped as my dish, sitting right there, remained invisible.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Raj gave me a side glance. \u201cYou know,\u201d he whispered, \u201cshe only makes that when she\u2019s feeling competitive.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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The meal began. His uncle, Arvind, sat at the head of the table.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A man sitting at the head of a table | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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My dish was moved to sit closest to him, followed by my MIL\u2019s. For some reason, they ate meals starting from the one closest to the person sitting at the head of the table. Everyone then started scooping from my dish first.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I watched it unfold silently, noting each reaction, my MIL leading the pack.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Priya raised her eyebrows, looking displeased. \u201cOh no, did you really think that much chili was a good idea? My stomach\u2019s already burning. It\u2019s too spicy!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman drinking water | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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My heart sank as the negative comments continued to pour in. I\u2019d noticed that Priya, maybe because she was the host, seemed to have this ability to rope everyone into mimicking her thoughts, without them noticing. While others simply went along with whatever she said, perhaps to stay in her good graces, I\u2019m not sure.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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So it was no surprise when Raj\u2019s cousin Meena wrinkled her nose. \u201cDid someone skip the salt?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Another cousin, Dev, laughed. \u201cHmm. It\u2019s not bad, just\u2026 amateurish. But that\u2019s expected since you didn\u2019t grow up with real Indian cooking, right?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Someone else even added, \u201cHonestly, just order takeout next time.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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My poor Raj, gotta love him, he tried speaking up for me. \u201cAll your taste buds are shot, her dish is delicious!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A happy man | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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When they\u2019d finished obliterating my dish, Priya \u201crescued\u201d the meal by presenting her own dish.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Of course, everyone praised it like it came from the heavens! I felt invisible.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Raj still had my back, saying, \u201cHonestly, I love your cooking. I don\u2019t get what they\u2019re talking about.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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When we left a bit early, it was because I felt defeated and drained, but my husband still encouraged me to keep trying.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A man in a car | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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So, for the next dinner outings, I kept bringing different Indian dishes I\u2019d practiced, but the reception was always the same. My dish would receive the first tasting before being judged harshly.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Someone snarked about my dal being \u201ctoo Western\u201d or how my samosas \u201ctasted like Whole Foods.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Raj held my hand tighter under the table. Once, when Meena rolled her eyes and asked if I even knew what asafoetida was, he flat-out said, \u201cYeah, she does. Maybe don\u2019t act like you invented Indian food.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A serious man eating | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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And then Priya would give her offering, and the raves were almost nauseating.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But Raj always said something nice about my dishes out loud.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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However, after the fifth or sixth round of public shaming, I got fed up and finally snapped.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Instead of throwing in the towel, I came up with a plan.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman thinking | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I knew that Priya was due to make her chole bhature again, because she pretty much worked on a rotation schedule.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Since Raj had bought the serving bowl his mom used for that particular dish a year ago for her birthday, I told him I liked it and asked where he\u2019d gotten it. I went and bought it, and for that next dinner, I made chole bhature again.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I made my best attempt at making it look exactly like Priya\u2019s, having memorized hers when she made it the last time. I even mimicked her presentation exactly, right down to the same serving bowl and garnish.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A meal on a table | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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That night, my MIL brought the same dish as expected, looking pretty much like the one I\u2019d made, same serving bowl and all.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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When dinner began, people ate the first dish, usually my \u201cfailed attempts,\u201d and as expected, after a few bites, they started their usual routine:<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cOh god, it\u2019s dry again,\u201d Priya was the first to comment, as usual.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cWhy does it taste so flat?\u201d added someone else.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI don\u2019t want to be rude, but you should stop trying,\u201d remarked another cousin.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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An unhappy man | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I smiled sweetly, facing them proudly for the first time. \u201cWow\u2026 I didn\u2019t think you\u2019d speak that way about your\u00a0own<\/i>\u00a0mother\u2019s cooking?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Forks paused in midair. Meena blinked. Arvind tilted his head. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cThat dish,\u201d I said, pointing at the partially-eaten bowl in front of Arvind, \u201cis Priya\u2019s. Mine\u2019s the one no one has touched yet. Right behind that one.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Dead silence.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Shocked people at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Dev looked from one bowl to the other, his expression slowly sinking from smug to stunned.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Priya\u2019s mouth opened slightly. \u201cWhat\u2026 what game is this?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cNo game,\u201d I said. \u201cI just wanted to see if the food was really the problem. Or if it was the person making it.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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You must be as confused as Raj\u2019s family at this point, dear reader. Let me explain.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman smiling at dinner | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Earlier that evening, while everyone was in the other room setting up the karaoke machine, I\u2019d quietly switched the placement of the bowls. Mine had gone where hers would be, and vice versa. No one suspected a thing.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Raj chuckled, having finally figured out why I wanted the same dish as his mother\u2019s. \u201cYou\u2019re brilliant, babe!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Arvind\u2019s wife, Aunt Neela, leaned forward, her bangles clinking. \u201cSo\u2026 wait. We all thought we were eating your food\u2026 and we criticized it\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Arvind turned red. \u201cWe were set up!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A serious man | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cNo,\u201d said Dev with a grunt. \u201cWe were exposed.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Finally snapping out of my MIL\u2019s hypnosis, Neela looked at Priya, eyes narrowing. \u201cYou\u2019ve been turning us against her this whole time?!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Suddenly, everyone turned against\u00a0her<\/i>, chastising\u00a0her<\/i>, and made\u00a0her<\/i>\u00a0feel bad!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Priya just kept brushing them off, telling them to, \u201cJust shut your mouths, you don\u2019t know anything!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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No one touched her dish after that!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A meal on a table | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Arvind was the first to dish up my actual dish, and the praise was the validation I\u2019d wanted ever since I started dating Raj!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Even the children noticed that there was nothing wrong with my dish.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Well, some actually favored mine over my MIL\u2019s. The youngest cousin, little Rani, chimed in, \u201cBut I like this one better. Can I have more?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Raj passed her a piece of bhature from my bowl.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A close-up of a dish | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Priya stared at her hands, then slowly lifted her fork and took another bite from her own dish, the one she hadn\u2019t realized was hers.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Everyone watched as she chewed. Then swallowed. She didn\u2019t say a word. But she reached over and scooped seconds from my bowl!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Raj grinned at me across the table. \u201cTold you they\u2019d love it!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Happy people having dinner | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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His mother hated that.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But I never imagined the day would come when she would say nothing instead of something awful. That was more powerful than a thousand compliments!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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We stayed late that evening. It was the first time I truly enjoyed being with the family. We sang some very spirited karaoke, some members laughing at my bad pronunciation of the lyrics.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But most of all, that was the last time Priya mocked my food.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman singing karaoke with children | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Every dish I made for my husband\u2019s family was met with criticism and side-eyes, no matter how hard I tried to win them over. But one dinner, that involved a … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":10700,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[24,20],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10699","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10699","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10699"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10699\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10701,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10699\/revisions\/10701"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/10700"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10699"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10699"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10699"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}